


Swell over Me

by DRiver2U



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types, veronic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Books, Bookstores, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22930240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DRiver2U/pseuds/DRiver2U
Summary: Veronica finds memories in a bookstore.A/U - Veronica is in New York. Tale takes place about 15 years after the end of the television series.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	Swell over Me

**Author's Note:**

> "The madness of the eyes is the lure of the abyss. Sirens lurk in the dark depths of the pupils as they lurk at the bottom of the sea, that I know for sure - but I have never encountered them, and I am searching still for the profound and plaintive gazes in whose depths I might be able, like Hamlet redeemed, to drown the Ophelia of my desire." -- Jean Lorrain ( _Monsieur de Phocas_ )

These weren't piles of the latest books sold by the biggest publishing houses. These were the remainders and the books someone had bought but didn't want to keep in their collections and the titles found at estate or garage sales and the books written by acquaintances that others felt obligated to buy to sustain the friendship. Veronica loved used book stores because of the stories the books told. Yes, every book had a story inside of it, but it also had a story outside of it. Who bought it first? Why did they purchase it? Why did they want to discard it? Why was one used book worth $1 and another worth $7? Whenever she stopped at the cat cafe to play with the adoptable felines and grab a drink, she'd wander next door and check out what cookbook had handwritten notes scribbled in the margins and which Dr. Seuss book had the most crayon doodles next to a tall, striped hat. 

As she strolled away from the STAFF PICKS, it wasn't the glossy cover on the book that jumped out at her as she made her way towards the NONFICTION table. The coffee in her paper cup was secured with the black lid. It wasn't going anywhere even though she almost dropped the dark, hot liquid over the entire table. The philosophical rantings of Rush Limbaugh and Marianne Williamson were overshadowed by the single copy of the book that wouldn't leave her eyesight. 

She knew she shouldn't pick it up, but she couldn't help herself. _Riding the Wave: Life's Ups and Downs_. The title was so cliché, it was almost clever. Veronica stopped herself from a smirk but didn't take her eyes off the tome. When had she ever been interested in reading a sports book, let alone an activity that she had intentionally not paid attention to in more than 10 years? No, it wasn't the cover and it wasn't the subject matter. It was the name below the picture of a surfboard floating gently on a calm ocean. Logan Echolls. 

Veronica switched the coffee cup from her right to her left hand and picked up the book with her dominant fingers. She kept it balanced on the tips of her fingers as she turned it to the flip side and read the first blurb written by Laird Hamilton. 

_Logan Echolls has lived a life many dream of - Hollywood royalty, flashy cars, and beautiful women. But the one constant in his life has been the pull of the ocean and the syncopation of the waves. This memoir isn't the typical celebrity biography. Echolls has related how each of his most important relationships has led him back to what he loves most - surfing._

Veronica scrunched her eyes shut as she wondered which chapter she was. Then she panicked and set the biodegradable cup down on Glenn Beck's face. She was nervous about how she would be portrayed in Logan's book, from Logan's point of view. The world would see what they meant to each other, how they had been functional and dysfunctional in a matter of hours on more than on occasion. Her own failures would be on display for all to gawk at and analyze. 

She could feel the acid stir in her stomach as she came to the next, even worse conclusion. What if she hadn't made the book? Had she meant so little to him that he hadn't even remembered their time together? It had been 15 years. Time had passed. They hadn't spoken. They had tried to forget each other. She wondered if he even remembered her name. If it were her, would she put him in a book about her life? 

She flipped the book back over and opened it. The blank first page where library cards used to go before the world digitized. The next page with the title printed at 50% black and slightly out of focus. Then the page with his other works. He'd written others. Well, one other. Another title page with the publishing house and his name again. His name was at 100% black, no gradation, but in an unusual font with the name all in lower case letters. 

The next page showed that it was indeed a real book manufactured in the United States registered with the Library of Congress with its own ISBN number. The first edition. Was there only one edition or had it sold so well it required another printing? She saw from the copyright date that it wasn't a new book. It had been out for a year. She subscribed to the _New York Times_. She would have noticed if a book by him was on the best seller list, although she couldn't remember the last time she had looked at that page of the paper. There was only one page left before the start of the story - the dedication page. 

_To the Sirens and the Mermaids, for tempting me and saving me._

Veronica worried about which part of her was in Logan's memory - temptress or savior. She wondered who she was in her own mind, the good, the bad, or the dangerous. Most days, she was sure she had given up any notion of tempting someone onto the rocky shore, but she knew there was still that part of her that reached for more than book stores and cat petting. 

There was no table of contents, so Veronica flipped through the book. She was moving the pages so quickly she could only catch a word here or there. She closed the book, took a deep breath, and then opened it again and went slower through the chapters. There she was, unmistakably at least to her, in chapter 4. He didn't use her name, but there was no mistaking his characterization of her. His words were kind, his memories gracious, and Veronica felt her cheeks warm. She wanted to savor his words yet burn the one copy in the store. She wanted to talk to him, and she wanted to yell at him for writing about her without her permission. She wanted to tell him how much she had missed him for so many years and continue to pretend that part of her life had not existed. She didn't have his number, but she knew she could find it with a few strokes of her fingers. He was out there; she had known it for years and had done nothing to find him. She just buried him deeper when his mirage, and in this case his book, had appeared before her. 

She took the memoir to the register and paid cash so no one would know who bought that copy. It was a beautiful New York night when the sky stays light until 10:00. It was the kind of night she craved in the dark days of January. She should wander the streets and call friends to meet for a drink alfresco. Instead, she'd take the book home with her and read it alone on the couch under a blanket savoring each word.


End file.
